Frosted Window Pane
by Wayward-Son-Walking
Summary: When the prince of Antarctica tries to balance nation work and schoolwork, things are bound to happen! OCxSwitzerland, RoChu, GerIta, Spamano, and future pairings that I can't think of at the moment. First fanfic so please, no flaming. AU Gakuen
1. Chapter I: Welcome to Hetalia Academy

The year was 2XXX. Over many centuries, medicine, transportation, and academics have evolved to what they used to call "the Future." To avoid inhaling some kind of deadly radiation, the people who could afford it now only had to eat a strawberry that had certain vaccines for the toxins. Transportation now had become hover-crafts and monorails, just like the old Halo series (now with a sequel known as the "Devil's Horns") and other "futuristic" games. Academics began just a simple pane of glass what displayed text, pictures, and animations for all ages. Some were interactive while others were meant to act like a book.

The largest change of all was probably the newest country/continent introduced to the world. Antarctica finally became inhabitable and large flocks of wives, husbands, sons, and daughters flew there almost immediately. The frozen country was nearly as tough as Russia. They too had sub-zero temperatures and hostile animals. Penguins weren't too kind to those who would kill their young and pouch their eggs. They probably loathed every single one of those stupid, ugly, homo sapiens. The southern pole had been taken over by the English speaking royal brats known as "England." He just simply mapped the land, returned, and claimed it to be his. The English didn't care who entered their land as long as they paid the entrance fee.

Security also toughened over the courses of years. Not a single illegal immigrant could be found in any country, not even Antarctica. If one didn't pay the fee, they were immediately thrown out, unless they had a pretty roughed up record in which case, they were executed. In the future, it was best to keep yourself in line.

Because the English were so ignorant of their new addition, they didn't notice that the people who lived there too evolved. While they were drinking Earl Grey tea with their pinkies raised high and proud, the snow-white men trained all day, learning to fight. They were taught by someone who had already inhabited the iceberg nearly a century ago. He was a frail man now, two of his three sons gone to live in America. His final son, Yuki, had pure nationalism for his new country. It had taught him that the cold could be his friend and in many situations, his worst enemy. Soon, England began to throw all of their problems at Antarctica. The people of Antarctica, called the Arctics, began to grow rebellious. A decade after the problems were thrown, they had enough guns and supplies to go to war with their mother country. The Arctics had chosen a leader who just so happened to be their general's son.

Yuki would have the greatest of honor to stroll into Buckingham Palace and ask their prime minister if he was willing to let Antarctica thrive or go to war with some of the toughest of people second only to Russians. Of course, the prime minister refused and ordered the "traitor" to be executed. His men weren't fast enough. Yuki already disposed of ten of them before fleeing his mother country and returning to his homeland by boat. He announced their leader's decision and almost simultaneously, AKs, snipers, and Desert Eagles were cocked and ready for battle.

The Arctics didn't even give their mother country a second to prepare. A single week later, sleek white ships docked into English harbors. The officials there explored the ships, only to be sucked into its dark dungeons, where they were slaughtered without mercy. Then, they were stripped clean of status and of uniform. The clothing was then worn by the rebels and they stepped onto English soil, guns hidden just under their thick cuffs.

The royal city of England was then turned into a real life Hell. Buildings were burnt but people were spared. Unless you fought back, you could live. Those who tried to fight back were slaughtered.

Yuki moved fast, dodging falling soldiers. But soon, his rebels would fall also and his master plan would be in ruins. They spent years training unconsciously for this sole moment. When they could just throw all their problems away and destroy all those who opposed them. He soon found his way to the prime minister's house. Instead of racking the door, he kicked it down with one mighty front kick. The brick house was empty.

No, no it wasn't. If you focused enough, just enough to see through the darkness, you could see the soldiers waiting in the shadows. Yuki pulled out the same weapon used to slice the ten men who were sent to attack him. It was still stained deep red with their blood.

Then, the Arctic was a blur. One slice.

Blood decorated the painting of "Leonardo", staining the masterpiece's face.

Two down.

Their blood decorated the tile floor, seeping into the spaces and the concrete lapping it up.

Then, the last two simply fled. They didn't bother to resist, choosing to value their lives rather than throw them away.

"The country, or your life, sir," Yuki asked politely. His mighty sword was stuck between the minister's fat neck. The frail old man gave a weak, "You can have it."

The leader of the mighty rebellion left the house, the promise inscribed in his very own blood, and the blood of the cut minister, on a piece of ancient paper. The prime minister was left with a gash across his arm and was found before he bled to death.

That was how Antarctica became the mighty country it is. With Yuki as their king and Hikari as their queen, Antarctica soon became the second strongest, not daring to make enemies along the way.

Their life rules was simply: "They hit you, shove them and beat them 'til they cough blood." The Arctics didn't take too kindly towards terrorists. The entrance fee was ripped out of their lives and most countries saw something good in their king. Yuki was handsome, generous, and kind. He helped those countries in need and shot down those who dared to step a toe into their icy waters with "murder" in their eyes.

It is now 3015. The great King Yuki has passed away, leaving a single heir. There is only one left and he doesn't want to rule the beautiful land of Antarctica. His name, was Kagemori Kuroyoko. The first and final heir for the Arctics.

The rebellion is looked onto today as "The Antarctic Stand." There was a world law passed that the representatives of their countries were sent to a prestigious academy, "Hetalia Academy for Renowned Prodigies." They had sent the prince a letter, requesting he join immediately. Kagemori didn't see anything special in him. He could shoot like a regular Arctic, hitting an apple's stem over fifty meters away. He could play games like a regular Arctic, outscoring even America in baseball. He could play an instrument like a regular Arctic, learning Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ at a tender age of ten.

What made him special? Was it because of his strange hair? After all, it wasn't everyday that an Arctic was born with soft, silky, night-black hair with one thick stripe of pure, bloody red running down the left side. His goth-styled hair made him stand out among the many prodigies who were dressed finely in their black suits and brown loafers. Those stuffy clothes were never his style.

Kagemori's was a black and white striped long sleeve which was covered up by a sleeve-less black vest with a fur inside. Then, because of his paranoia, he covered his neck with a silk red scarf, wrapping it many times. He thought it imitated Ivan Braginski (Russia) and he wanted to feel his power. The girlish legs he possessed were quickly hidden by baggy black jeans. He wasn't much of a "Show-Off-My-Body" person. Those pale feet of his were always covered with black socks and then purple and black sneakers. When his father, the king of Antarctica, passed away, he invited his son to take it, Kagemori (known as "Kage" to his friends) declined.

"I'm not meant to be royal. This whole system reminds me of England. I will not repeat what they have done to us," he reasoned.

~~Kage's POV~~

"This is an entrance exam?" I thought as I started at the pre-school level problems on the copy paper. I'm like, a thousand years old or so in human years. The pencil in my hand quivered.

"I refuse to take this test," I said at the observer. The professional-like man raised and eyebrow.

"And why is that?" he asked.

"This is an insult to my intelligence. I refuse to take this," I answered and threw my pencil down.

"Kagemori Kuroyoko. The representative from Antarctica. I see that your people have a very tattered history, going to war with England. You got lucky when you won," he sneered, looking at my information.

"We won. It wasn't luck. We trained everyday. My father was the one who stormed into that prime minister's house and asked him that famous sentence - 'The country or your life.' The minister was the one who backed down. He simply stood there. Dad could've killed him to mark Antarctica's power but he spared the minister. He didn't kill everyone. The rebels saved those who were somehow missed in the search in the burning building. That took away more that fifty people from us. Just to save that royal country's people. We don't want to hurt anyone but if you so much as tease one of our people, I can guarantee you that I will have a bullet through your head," I answered. No one got away with saying that we were "lucky" in "The Antarctic Stand." The Arctics have bested everyone but Russia in everything. Academics, sports, musicality, you name it, we've won it.

"Well. If you have so much nationalism, then tell me, why won't you finish that exam?" he asked, pointing a pudgy finger at the simple quiz.

"It's an insult to my intelligence. What age do you think I am? One? I am the first immortal in my whole country. I am over one thousand years old. I've seen people come and die. It's not a pleasant feeling," I answered.

"Sorry for wasting your time," I grumbled, pulled on my vest, and opened the door. In tumbled four of Hetalia's students. One had blonde hair, blue eyes, and an aviator vest. The other blonde had green eyes and thick eyebrows. The next had long blonde hair and really made me question his sexuality. The other looked Asian.

"Alfred F. Jones, Arthur Kirkland, Wang Yao, Francis Bonnefoy, and Ivan Braginski. What on Earth's name are you doing?" the professor barked.

Braginski? Where have I heard that before?

"The representative of America, England, China, France, and Russia," I whispered, looking at the heap of bodies. They didn't seem that great. America, or Alfred, didn't seem like a fearless hero who had stood up against England, or Arthur, like we did.

"I-It was Arthur's idea!" Alfred blurted out, pointing at the English man.

"It was your idea, aru!" Wang protested, standing up and dusting off the dirt on his silk wear.

Ivan simply walked in, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

"Y-you're Ivan Braginski, the representative from Russia," I stuttered, pointing at him.

"Da. Who are you?" he asked, a creepy aura around his seemingly cheery smile.

"I-I'm Kagemori Kuroyoko, from Antarctica," I introduced.

"Oh. I've heard of your country. Thank you for not besting mother Russia. We'll get along fine, da?" he asked, smiling once again.

"Yeah, let's hope you don't get killed first," Arthur said.

"Is that seriously what your military wears?" Alfred asked. He examined the fuzzy vest and striped shirt.

"Not really. My style greatly differs from everyone else's," I answered, not sure if I could punch the American or not.

"I know my country dumped all their problems on you guys, but if it's alright with you, I'd like to be friends," Arthur said, throwing Alfred out the door. I looked at his gloved hand.

"Sure, I guess. Put the past behind, where it belongs, and march toward the future, head up high and mistakes forgotten, right?" I asked, shaking it firmly.

"That was beautiful! Do it again!" Francis, the representative from France, said. He had taken out his iPhone 6S and was trying to snap pictures. Now, I really wonder about his sexuality.

"Goddamn it, Francis! Put that away!" Arthur screamed and tried to whack it out of his slender hands.

"Nyah! You're so short, Arthur!" Franics teased.

I stared at them. How could they have so much fun while they were enemies? It was like a fact that England and France hated each other with a burning passion. America and England still worked together after the American Revolution.

"Well, are you interested?" the professor asked. I glared at him, my crimson eyes willing a ping-pong sized hole to sizzle through his skull.

"I know I was wrong to criticize Antarctica too quickly. I see potential in those eyes of yours. This is obviously nothing for you," he apologized. The entrance exam was then tossed into a recycling bin. I stared at him in amazement. Then, I quickly regained my composure. A strong, independent, and rebellious nation.

"It would be my honor, professor," I said and shook his hand just like I did with Arthur, a nice firm grip.

"Welcome to Hetalia Academy, Mr. Kuroyoko," he said and smiled, teeth showing through his graying mustache-beard combo.


	2. Chapter 2: Am I Insane?

"This... is our uniform?" I asked the headmaster, looking at the simple article of clothing. It had a pair of loose plaid blue and white pants, a white dress shirt, and the black outer coat.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Kuroyoko?" he asked, standing up at his withering oak desk. His room was surprisingly small. It wasn't small to the point where I couldn't breathe, rather, it was cozy. There were thick, dusty, dark green drapes and thinner pale white drapes which kept out the morning sun. It was crammed from top to bottom with stained wood and each shelf was filled to the brim with old classics such as "Moby Dick", "The Wizard of Oz", "Romeo and Juliet", etc. Their spines were worn and some were also torn. Some of the gold tinted font on them were faded. Overall, the whole room gave off a nice "grandfatherly" feeling to it.

"I will now take you to meet your roommate, Mr. Kuroyoko," the truly grandfatherly looking like man said and hobbled on his black cane. We zig-zagged around halls and came to part of the academy that I didn't get to see during my brief tour of the vast academy yesterday.

It was a deep hallway that had the colors of the academy: blue, white, black, and dark green. Each door was in the middle of a single stripe. We stopped at the fifth white block and the headmaster knocked on the surprisingly metal door for the dorm. There was an obvious click of a gun and slowly, the door was swung open, revealing a European boy with a chin length bob and swamp-like green eyes. He wore a strange little beret in his hair and there was a gleam of protectiveness in his eyes.

"Mr. Zwingli! Put that gun down!" the headmaster demanded and "Mr. Zwingli" slowly and reluctantly, set his Springfield '03 rifle down.

"What is it, Headmaster Maki?" he asked, his voice deep.

"We notified you of your coming roommate, Mr. Zwingli. This is Mr. Kuroyoko. He will be sharing your quarters," Headmaster "Maki" said, gesturing at me. I stared at the possibly Swiss man.

"No," my "roommate" said and nearly slammed the metal door before a girl with equally long hair and bigger, rounder, more innocent green eyes barreled down the hallway, dodging us and continuing her way, Francis hot on her trail.

"Lili!" he screamed, trying to catch her.

"Brother!" she screamed, but she didn't stop running.

"Damn you, you French flirt!" the older brother shouted, running after Francis.

"Francis, stop chasing Lili!" he continued to shout, running after them. I noticed that they were going for the next floor down (Hetalia Academy is a five or so story tall building).

"Please excuse the mess," I said to the headmaster and leapt out the window just a few doors down. It shattered upon impact and I had to react fast or else I was going to die. My thin hand shot up and caught the thin crack between the glass and the wall. I grunted and swung myself up and kicked the glass, shattering another pane.

Just as Lili rushed past, I grabbed her waist, twirled her around, and then thrashed the whip at Francis, the look in my eyes. He got the message and backed away, right into Zwingli's face.

"Lili!" he shouted, shoving poor Francis to the floor and yanked her from my grasp.

"Big brother!" she shouted and hugged him.

"Kagemori! Where did you learn to do that?" Francis asked, apparently already recovering from the shove.

"It's just my style," I answered, curling the whip and slipping it into my special case for it. Of course, the case was sleek black, giving off a bright shine when the sunlight hit it just right.

"Lili, are you okay? Did he touch you? He didn't take pictures of you, did he? What about the new one? He didn't touch you anywhere other than your waist, right?" the brother shot at his younger sister (and possible lover).

"N-no, big brother. Francis just wanted to tease me again. The new one just helped me," she whispered, untangling herself from the bruder's strong embrace.

"U-uh... Well, I guess a thank-you is in order," the darker blonde said, coughing awkwardly.

"Apologize," I said, nudging at Francis.

"Me? Why? I was just poking some fun at-"

I jabbed his ribs. Hard.

"I'm sorry, Lili. Can you forgive me?" he asked through a strained voice. His arms were clenching his stomach, groaning.

"E-eh... Thank you, Kagemori," the darker blonde said, so fast that I barely caught him.

"Kage," I said, looking at him through my crimson red eyes.

"Say that again?" he asked.

"Kage. Call me 'Kage.' That's what all of my friends call me," I said, genuinely smiling for the second time in my life. It didn't show teeth but...

~~Vash Zwingli's (Switzerland) POV~~

I stared at my new roommate. Based on the easiness in his smile, the light that angled to capture his eyes, and the fact that Francis, the greatest gossip in school, began to snap away with his iPhone meant that this "Kage" didn't smile too often.

"I guess we better be going back, huh?" Francis asked.

"I hope they fix that soon," I said, looking at the shattered glass.

"It'll be fixed," Kage said and began to walk. I couldn't help but be amazed at the way he walked. I've seen Arctics come to my country to negotiate treaties and they all walked with this simple aura. It was so, plain and white. Kage walked with this black and gray aura. It wasn't as strong as Ivan's deep purple aura (which is truly terrifying if it comes out). He walked straight yet leisurely. his walk differed from all of our walks.

Why am I paying attention to his walk?

~~Kage's POV~~

"This is your side of the room," Vash, who is apparently is a Swiss, said. He took out a thick roll of silver duct tape. With alarming speed, the room had one bold line splitting it into two. (How he got it up on the ceiling so fast, I don't know.)

"Why are you so territorial?" I asked. He glared at me.

"I am Swiss. Stay away from my territory," he snarled. I sighed and fell onto the twin size bed. It's mildly fluffy, not deep enough to have me swim in it, not high enough for me to break my spine on. I stared at the white, peeling ceiling.

"How old is this academy?" I asked, looking up. Vash had a pair of thin glasses and was typing furiously on a Blueberry laptop. The white screen flashed in those swampy green eyes of his.

"What're you doing?" I asked, staring at him.

"Writing a paper. This is the last day of our summer break," he answered, typing even faster. I groaned. Why? I just got here. The torture is going to slowly ensue. New kid, new country, new... everything about me.

There were two knocks at the door. Rolling off the bed, I walked over to the white metal door. With a flourish, I swept it open and nearly slammed it into Arthur's face.

"Woah, there," he said, smiling. I stared at his eyebrows.

"What? Oh, my eyebrows, huh? Stop staring, you git! I was born like that!" he teased, shoving a paper in my face.

"What's this?" I asked, looking at the piece of paper. It had seven period in it.

"Your schedule. Looks like we have almost all of our classes together. That'll be fun," he said, looking at the white schedule. I stared at it. Homeroom, Reading, Science, Mathematics, PE, Free Period, and finally Drama.

Wait.

WHAT?

"Why do I have Drama?" I asked, looking at the paper in question.

"Everyone has it. This academy specializes in academics, athletics, and the arts," Arthur explained.

"Dude, Arty!" someone called, slightly down the hall. It was Alfred.

"Don't call me 'Arty", you git!" Arthur shouted at him, obviously furious at the simple nickname. I looked at the both of them.

"Bro, lemme see your schedule!" Alfred said, snatching it from my hand.

"That's impolite, you pig," Arthur shouted, trying to retrieve the single piece of paper.

"Do you want to come in?" I asked, widening the door.

"Uh... Is Vash going to shoot us if we do?" Arthur asked warily. He peeked over my shoulder, staring at my still typing roommate.

"Nope. We split the room. I'm not that territorial," I answered and suddenly, a sharp pain speared itself into my head.

"Ow," I said, rubbing the spot. I turned around and Vash was just there, typing innocently. There was a ball-point pen sitting not-so-innocently on the cream colored carpet.

"Just come in before there's a revolution," I said, opening the door wide. The American and English slowly and hesitantly shuffled in. They eyed the thick line on the floor, watching their shoes and making sure that not a toe was stuck out of line.

We settled on my mildly fluffy bed and began to discuss some things. Turns out, Headmaster Maki has been here for a good, solid sixty years. We had a rival school called Renegade Academy. They were almost exactly like us, only they funded wars with our school. They've tried to outdo the academy at everything but we've always pulled through in the end, without cheats. Soon. Francis and Yao came along. They also joined in.

Every country had different languages, different cultures, different holidays, everything. We all had some things in common. Alfred and I both enjoyed playing sports like baseball and basketball. Arthur and I liked tea, but different kinds. I prefer green tea while he enjoyed Earl Grey. Yao and I both used some form of martial art as our prime form of fighting. He chose Kung-Fu but I liked to use Shao-Lang, a recently created Chinese art only 500 years old. Francis and I... Well, there is nothing similar between us. Seriously. NOTHING.

"Get out of my room," Vash suddenly intervened. We looked up from our game of Poker (a new card game I just learned) and stared at the Swiss, a look of "Really?" playing in our eyes.

"Get out," he repeated, casually drawing out his '03 rifle. He cocked it dramatically and casually if that's possible. Before I knew it, the countries were gone, their cards fluttering onto the floor.

"That was really mean," I said, trying to compile the deck back together.

The Swiss just sneered, threw his thin glasses onto his drawer and marched into the bathroom, one of the two neutral zones we had. I heard the water begin to pitter-patter on the cool tile floor and then wrapped the deck back together with a stray rubberband. Sighing, I took out the clothes I had and stuffed them into the spare dresser. The under-garments went into the top drawer, the shirts in the second, the pants in the third, the accessories all in the bottom. I don't own earrings or any of those other accessories. I own scarves, sunglasses, watches, and some pendants. Those are actual accessories, believe it or not.

The shower shut off and out stepped Vash with a short towel covering his lower torso. There was another one ruffling his hair dry.

"My turn?" I asked and he nodded, grabbing some clothes. I shrugged and took my PJs (loose black undershirt, old middle school PE shorts) into the bathroom. As I took off my stripped black-and-white shirt, I thought about how bad this could get. The list was depressingly long. Peeling my jeans off, I stared at the pale skin on me. Crimson red eyes told the world they meant power. The black hair resembled the Orientals, meaning intelligence. The snow white skin meant sub-zero, arctic. I stared at me, this just being one of the million times.

Hot air hung in the air, mist fogging up the mirror. The magma hot water rained down on my head of hair, dragging it down. So this is what hot water is like...

It burns...

Quickly, I shut off the blistering hot water and favoring the arctic cold. The familiar temperature cooled my gently now red skin. If you listened hard enough, you could hear the gentle hiss of instant cool. Slowly, I slid my red eyes closed, just letting the water drip down, trickle down my body, and flush itself into the drain.

It reminded me of the first time I felt the cold, the first time I was aware of it. It was when I was just a child, born right after our rebellion against England. Every newborn of a family had to show his worth by fighting against his father.

Well, you could imagine everyone's face when the king's only son, a complete reflection of himself, stood up from the ice stadium, the splinters of ice splayed everywhere. My father was under my foot, having gotten serious too late. There were millions of cuts strewn on my face, my breathe coming out in uneven bursts. I never had the gall to cut someone, much less kill them. Bruise, yes. Kill? Never.

Afterwards, my beloved father and I spent a good week in our infirmary before regaining conscience. We stared at each other and slowly begin to laugh. It began as a nervous little chuckle from my father and then it grew in a crescendo until the whole kingdom could hear the sound of happiness and laughter. Mother always said my laugh was like the peaceful tolling of church bells. As she said this, I flashed her one of my rare smiles. Father then described it as soft as snow and as brilliant as the sun. It was bright and cheerful.

Which is probably why I've stopped. The king and queen of Antarctica died two more years from that day, leaving me as the future king of the ice land. The people of my land decided it was best to find two suitable replacements until I hit the correct age to marry, bringing back the proper title to my family's name. The queen was a fat glutton, a woman who never believed in happiness and always wore a well-crafted mask in front of "her" people. Her people? I am the heir to the throne and she dares to call them "her" people. Soon, she was my self-proclaimed mother, making every little decision in my life.

My "father" was slightly better. His platinum blonde hair was always slicked back in a business manner but the thing that really ticked me off that he was a leech. Anything for his company: my head, the world, anything. As soon as I found out he was siphoning the white gold from my future inheritance, I completely cut him off from the fund. I thought I could trust someone like him. That professional smile and the welcoming hand-shake. Then again, he did marry dearest mother.

As I slowly turned the cool water off, I reopened my eyes. I was here, at Hetalia Academy. I was sharing a room with one of the most territorial countries in the world; our room was split in two with a single bold line of duck tape. Soon, I stepped out of the shower and noticed the fogged up mirror. Running my pale hand across it, I stared long and hard into those crimson eyes.

The longer I stared, the stranger I got. I mean that literally. My reflection wasn't my reflection anymore. His eyes turned into a chocolate brown and had a deep tan on his skin. The other me was a good head shorter than me, making him way below average. The black hair on his head was bleached snow white.

"Who are you?" he asked suddenly. I just stared at him. Is this normal? I mean, to have your reflection talking to you?

Of course it isn't. B-but only insane people see this, right?

I'm not insane!

Am I?

"Hey, I'm talking to you! Listen to me! I'm the prince of Antarctica, now talk to me!" he whined. He's really ticking me off.

"C'mon! TALK TO ME!" he screeched. He's REALLY making me mad. To express my anger, I growled. Suddenly, his cocky demeanor evaporated and began to cower.

"D-don't hurt me!" he begged. Then, he clutched his head and screamed in pure agony. It was like listening to the screams of millions of people die. Well, it was like that, considering he did represent Antarctica... His bleached hair was warped and mixed with dark ink, turning it black. Like someone took a paintbrush and with one mighty stroke into his hair, there was a fat line of crimson streaking down his left side. The tan skin turned sub-zero style.

H-he's turning into me!

I stared in horror as blood stains sprouted across my torso and back. Quickly, I glanced at my own body, relieved to see that there was no blood but my attention was then taken away at my metamorphosis. Faded images began to appear around the tiled floor. The longer I stared, the more life-like they became.

W-was that an Alfred? An Arthur? An Ivan? A Vash, a Yao, a Francis. What is this?

"I killed again! I promised I wouldn't kill! FORGIVE ME, MOTHER! FORGIVE ME FATHER!" my reflection screamed, tears trailing down his face. Killed again...

This couldn't be a vision of the future, right? I promised, I swore that I would NEVER kill again. This has to be a joke, right?

RIGHT? WHY ISN'T IT STOPPING?

Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore. I lost all of my composure and screamed at the ceiling. Every single ounce of fear, anger, and sadness was thrown into it. It lasted for a full five minutes before I collapsed on the floor, clutching my head. The whole room was spinning. Something was slammed open and then a pair of feet pitter-pattered over to my location.

"Kuroyoko!" someone shouted but it sounded muffled. It sounded like someone was calling to me from the bottom of a well. They shook my shoulders and tried to snap me out of it.

"Kuroyoko!" they tried one last time before I woke up.

"Did you see it?" I asked, looking into Vash's pools of swamp green eyes. He raised an eyebrow and looked into the mirror. I stared too and noticed that I had made myself look like a psycho. There was nothing there. No blood, no other me, no nothing. I continued to stare, not even acknowledging the fact that Vash had just picked me up and slapped a pair of boxers on me. I finally came back when the rain began to beat against our window and that night, for the first time in human and nation years, I cried myself to sleep.

(A/N): Yeah, so do you like it? It'd be great if you reviewed because like, they're my only motivation (other than my awesome friends) to continue writing. So, please review if you liked it and I'll try to type even faster!

-SBB

Free Talk:

Kage: Am I really going to be insane?

SBB: Hopefully not. It all depends on how much I feel like screwing around with your life.

Kage: Now that's just mean.

SBB: You only have a few more years of freedom left.

Kage: I know. And I hate it.


End file.
